


Into The Fray

by JourneyIntoMadness



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Espionage, Eventually will be mature? Maybe?, F/M, Mystery, Please bare with me, Secret Organizations, a mix of canons because I like them all, eventual sherlock holmes/oc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JourneyIntoMadness/pseuds/JourneyIntoMadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and his companion John Watson find themselves entangled in a rather curious and dangerous case. The Lady Amelia Carter, an influential and headstrong adventuress asks Holmes to investigate the suicide of a good friend and workmate. Her desire to get to the truth of his untimely death soon turns into the chase of an organization bent on having absolute power, by any means necessary. What's more, is the family's mysterious involvement with the organization. The further down the rabbit hole the 3 companions go, the deadlier the game gets.</p><p>~*~</p><p>“Good heavens!” Watson cried. “Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?”</p><p>“They always fill me with a certain horror," Holmes replied, "It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

**Author's Note:**

> Since I've never written a Sherlock Holmes story, you'll have to bear with me as my style of writing may change to suit the story's needs. In the meantime I think a switch between third person and Waton's POV is best. To keep things interesting I'll try to mix elements of the books, the Granada series and the RDJ movies and mention which canon is being followed in a chapter. However, the characters themselves in appearance are from the Granada series such as Jeremy Brett and David Burke :)

**John's POV**

Holmes had not had a very serious case since October of 1888. Sherlock Holmes without a case tended to put him in a black mood and he would eventually reach for the cocaine bottle in a desperate attempt at mental exultation. Physically, it made him lethargic and of no use to anyone. I have always and will always disapprove of his addiction. Thankfully, it was the start of a new year at 221b Baker Street, January of 1889 to be precise, when we received the most peculiar visitor and not a moment too soon. I had managed to convince Holmes to have some breakfast when we were interrupted by Mrs. Hudson.

"Oh I'm quite sorry to disturb you but there's a gentleman downstairs wishing to see you, Mr. Holmes. Says his name is Joseph Blackthorne."

Holmes pursed his lips in thought, "I have no recollection of a Joseph Blackthorne. Very well, show him up."

Moments later a gentleman entered the living room. He was no taller than 5'10" and no older than 55, he had a hunched back, greying hair and beard, and walked with a cane. He carried a bundle of papers wrapped together with string under one arm. He stood by the door and eyed my companion, "You Mr. Holmes?" His manner of speech was soft but his mouth was lopsided and produced a lisp.

Holmes nodded and regarded the man, most likely adducing what he could. I moved from my seat to help the man into a chair but he immediately walked from the door and examined the many liquid filled flasks from Holmes' latest experiment. "How much do you charge for your services?" The man asked, obviously keeping himself as concealed from us as possible.

Holmes stood and made himself comfortable near the fireplace, "I do not normally charge except that of any expense incurred to solve a case. Or if I know a person can pay."

The man coughed something violent and moved again, this time across the living room and towards the window. He peered out of it for a moment before drawing the shutter. "And what of your discretion? I know your friend here writes about many of your cases. I'd prefer this stay private for as long as possible!"

"I assure you, sir, you shall have it." I replied. I made a second attempt to help him to the settee and this time he consented. 

The man sat down with a groan and put his cane aside. "Finally, Mr. Holmes, your powers of deduction...as good as I've heard? Why don't you try a bit on me and then perhaps I will present my case."

My companion smirked only briefly and placed a finger upon his lips before answering, "You're from Manchester. Judging by your state of dress, you are well-to-do but you carry yourself as someone who worked for their money and was not born into it. Given that nasty cough of yours, your flat-footedness, your state of health at your age, you must have been in the mills. Manchester is certainly known for its cotton mills, however; given your wealth, you were a labourer but very soon became a master of your own mill. You're rather strong headed and set in your ways. That hat of yours is rather old but still in wonderful shape so you refuse to be rid of it. You are obviously married and you married for love rather than money." Holmes paused for a minute in observation then continued, "You also have a Golden Retriever...No! You have two."

Our guest remained silent before breaking out into a hearty laugh! "My, my, Mr. Holmes, you are quite brilliant. You are right on every point! Except...I am very much dead. You see Joseph Blackthrone died some three years ago. Succumbed to pneumonia. However, my heart and mind are put at ease knowing that I've fooled the great detective. This means I have certainly fooled my potential enemies!"

Well obviously Holmes and I were very confused by this man and what he was saying. He put his hand up to stop any questions and then he took off his hat and scarf, then his gloves and to our shock, he removed his hair and beard! Next off came the bushy eyebrows, elongated nose and a curious contraption that was in the mouth! Who was now before us was no man at all but rather a young and attractive woman!

"Forgive my false pretences, gentleman for it was necessary to conceal my true identity. I believe I'm being followed and did not want them to know that I was coming to you." 

"My God!" I exclaimed. I looked to Holmes, whose silence but amused visage said everything.

"My name is actually Amelia Carter. I work for my father's company here in London. It is a rather curious company in that we archive photography, books, works of art, artefacts for museums, and so on. We work closely with collectors, inventors and curators from all over. History is our business. I will not labor you with those sorts of details. I've come for your help Mr. Holmes for I feel something very sinister is happening. Have you heard of the death of Mr. Elliot Hastings last month?"

Holmes shook his head.

Miss Carter produced a few papers from her coat. She handed a coroner's report to me, "According to both the coroner and police, they deemed his death to be a suicide. Morphine overdose."

Holmes regarded Miss Carter, "You do not believe so?"

"No...I knew Elliot...I knew his vices but I can tell you this was no suicide. This was murder."

"Murder?" I questioned, putting the report aside.

"Oh yes, Dr. Watson. It is true Elliot had a mild addiction to morphine which he denied was an addiction but he used it to feel...well, to not feel. He suffered from a sort of anxiety. He did not mind being around people but it was very hard for him to make friends. He always felt very lonely. I blame the abuse he received from his mother after his father's untimely death. She died not long after. So he had no family. My father and I were very fond of him, though. We would have him over very often. Indeed we were the only one's at his funeral. My father actually paid for the funeral and placed him in the family graveyard. Because I worked so closely with him, I knew a great deal more about him than anyone else in the world. He had an amazing focus and attention to detail. In fact, he was a great admirer of yours Mr. Holmes. Despite his shortcomings socially, he had an immense kindness and hated seeing anyone in a bad way, he loathed the corrupt and any kind of villain. Indeed, I believe he was some kind of vigilante. Every time I read the paper and saw an anonymous tip in a case, I knew Elliot had something to do with it. He would go digging into things he ought not and then he would get a very particular itch. An itch that would drive him mad, if he did not scratch it. I had implored him to stop but he did not listen. Well, two months ago, he got another itch. I knew something was bothering him, something big and he refused to tell me. He was growing paranoid and irrational. A week before his death, before Christmas, he told me was going up north on some business and that he'd be back by Christmas Day. When he had not shown up for our usual holiday dinner nor work, I went to his flat, only to find that the police were there. They told me it was a suicide and I could scarcely believe it. I was willing to let it go until just four days ago when I received a letter from a lawyer, saying that Elliot had left a will and named me sole benefactor. I had been given all his money and belongings! His will had instructed that the lawyer give me a letter from him. It was simply a William Blake poem." Miss Carter gave the poem to Holmes and continued her most unusual story.

"I had a mind to look amongst his belongings for any of Blake's writings but I could not find any. I knew I had one in my father's library so I went looking for it. Do you know what I found?" The woman had produced another letter. "An explanation. I think you would want to read it."

Holmes eagerly took the letter and began scanning over it, muttering to himself the contents. Once he was finished, he handed it to me and proceeded to light a pipe. "My dear Amelia, I am on to something so horrible that I can only describe it as evil...it will certainly claim my life. Indeed if you are reading this, then it already has. I do not wish to involve you in my own folly but I fear these villains will soon come after you and Henry."

"My father," she interjected.

"I have discovered an organization that may very well permeate every facet of society. Trust no one. I have only scratched the surface of their schemes but it was enough to get their attention. I have hidden all pertinent information in the floor of our office. Perhaps you will do better than I and seek the help of Sherlock Holmes...before it is too late."

Miss Carter handed the bundle of papers she was carrying earlier to Holmes. He flicked through them, examining bank records, housing agreements, obituaries and even government documents. "How the devil did Mr. Hastings get his hands on all these?" I inquired.

The woman chuckled lightly and shook her head, "Elliot was always quite good at retrieving things. Very persuasive young man. My father always joked that he was wasted on simple work and should have been a politician."

"This is a very curious and sinister business Miss Carter. Why should this organization come after you and your father for Mr. Hastings' meddling?" Holmes asked, settling into his chair.

"It is exactly as you said, very curious and sinister. I do not know why they should come after us or who to trust. If what Elliot says is true, and based on those documents, you can understand why I have not gone to the police. I wanted to bury the whole matter, think of it as nothing but a conspiracy but...I began to be followed and I feared what Elliot had warned me about was true. So I decided to come to you, though, I thought it best to not come as myself."

"Very wise," Holmes replied, tugging at his pipe, "And very well done! You should have been an actress."

"You flatter me, sir...will you take the case?"

"Oh most certainly! Would you mind if we retained these documents?"

"Not at all! However, I feel I must warn _you_ now to be careful."

"Where do you live so that we may contact you?"

"With my father at Blackthorne Hall in Bedfordshire."

"Blackthorne?" I questioned with a smile.

Miss Carter bowed her head with a smirk as if to apologize, "Joseph Blackthorne was my late uncle. My late mother's brother."

I nodded in understanding. 

Miss Carter put on the guise of her uncle once more before rising to take her leave. "Good day to you gentleman, and good luck." With that, she hobbled off.

I started for the window and watched her get into a cab. "What a remarkable and attractive woman! I have my Mary, true but...I have never met a woman such as Miss Carter."

"Hm? Well you are an expert on the fairer sex Watson. She is indeed remarkable pulling a trick like that. I must say I was thoroughly deceived!" Holmes looked irritated to be outdone by a woman but then laughed to himself and relit his pipe. "Watson, do look for a Henry Carter in my archives will you. Interesting as this case may be, I believe Amelia Carter was not telling us the entire truth about herself. I perceived what I could. When she told us her story, there was not an emotional inflection in her voice. She chose her words and details carefully. She is well educated, well travelled, given the details of her uncle are true, then she has some wealth. That guise as her uncle was carefully constructed and the fact that it was done so well in a hurry means she has foresight."

"And she is an aristocrat, a Lady in fact!." Holmes snapped his head towards me with a curious gaze. "Her father is the great explorer Lord Henry Carter who was married to a Jocelyn Blackthorne."

"Yes, Henry Carter, I knew I heard his name before. He was one of the many people to attend the Great Exhibition in 1851 and present his findings from Asia."

"He became a powerful, influential and wealthy man and soon married Jocelyn who also came from a wealthy and influential family." I added.

"And yet...their daughter does not wear her status nor her title even though she may be one of the richest women in England. She chooses to live in obscurity. Why? There is more to this case than meets the eye, Watson." Holmes smiled wide at the potential. I could tell his mind was already hard at work about how to achieve the first step of the investigation. "You will accompany me, yes? I know your practice needs your skill-"

"Say no more, my friend, I would not miss this for the world!"

"Excellent! Then let us begin!" Holmes was out of his chair like a shot and went into his bedroom to put on an overcoat and his shoes. "We shall examine Mr. Hastings' residence. The trail may be cold but we may be able to make something of it."


	2. Delving Deeper

Two days had passed since their meeting at Baker Street when Amelia received a telegram from London in the early hours of the morning. 

_Lady Carter,_

_Watson and I have been by Hastings' house and your office._ _Curious that we could not find his journal._

_Please come to Baker Street this evening if convenient._

_S.H._

Amelia smirked at the usage of her title. She figured it wouldn't take Holmes very long to delve into her family history. What with her father being a famous explorer and with her having been his assistant and partner for many years. She was a peculiar sort and was very much sought after by all the young men that knew her. Whether they wanted her for money or love was of little consequence to her. She had not yet decided if she wanted to be married at all. At times she found herself incredibly lonely. At others she did not mind it and in fact, preferred it. This sort of cold feeling came over her whenever she witnessed just how loathsome and overbearing people could be.

The woman rose from her desk and took a turn around the room in thought. She had heard and read much about Mr. Holmes but never had the chance to meet him. She had grown to respect him and his methods, just as much as Elliot had. Though her late friend was some kind of secret genius who could have very well eclipsed Holmes and all his intellect. This was a very nasty business indeed. The brunette brushed her fingers across the cover of a latched book; Elliot's journal. She rang her maidservant and asked that a reply be sent to Holmes agreeing to the meeting.

Later that evening she had arrived at Baker Street in her carriage, however, she did not don a disguise. She went as herself this time wearing a slim, dark purple dress and matching coat. She rang the bell and was immediately shown up but not before she had noticed a man lingering in the distance.

"It's as we suspected. She's gone ta Mr. Holmes alright." The man said, turning to a comrade in the shadows.

The darkness concealed his identity save for the flash of light from a match as he lit the end of a cigarette. "Very well then. We will have to move our plans forward.

 

**John's POV**

Lady Carter arrived precisely at 7pm, looking handsome as ever. She now proudly wore her sophistication and looked a great deal different from what we had witnessed two days before. Holmes was by her side in an instant and directed her to the settee, eager to pose his questions. The woman carried a book with her and placed it next to her as she sat. I offered her some tea to which she agreed and sent for Mrs. Hudson.

Holmes then moved to the fireplace, one arm laid across the mantle, fingers upon his brow. "Lady Carter...you might have told us about your heritage before."

"I hardly saw how it mattered as I have asked you to investigate Elliot Hastings death," She replied matter-of-factly.

"And perhaps prevent your own?" He faced her fully now and eyed her with much scrutiny. "I find it curious that you come from an immense wealth and yet you work for your father's company?"

"I am an only child Mr. Holmes. I had always insisted on being useful, especially after my mother died when I was twelve. I stand to inherit everything when my father dies. He wanted me to acquaint myself with the business and his employees, his circle of friends. He raised me as he would a son because he wanted society to respect me and not ever consider my gender a shortcoming as so many do."

I smirked and helped with the tea when it arrived. Lady Carter rose from the settee and prepared her own cup. "Now Mr. Holmes, about your investigation-"

"Yes. Hastings did have a journal did he not?"

"He did but how did you figure that out?"

"Well for a man to go through so much trouble and uncover such horrible secrets, surely he did not leave it all in his head. I had begun to assume that whoever killed him, took it."

She raised her eyebrows, and took a sip of her tea before placing it aside. She then picked up the book she brought and handed it to my companion. The lady also pulled out a neatly folded parchment and twine from her coat. Both had evidently been wrapped around the book.

"It arrived this morning. Look at the postmark."

"Yes, this was sent just days ago. Wrapped in simple parchment and secured with twine."

"I suspect whatever false business Elliot had up north led to him sending me this journal well after his death. I've read the whole thing already. His last entries indicate some...premonition about the precise details of what was going to happen. He knew he was about to die. He gathered all the information he had and put it in that journal. He knew how these villains would most likely kill him, that they would look for any such information that had been uncovered and destroy it. So he very carefully constructed a string of clues for me to follow, figuring that I would be followed, that I would come to you and that this journal should arrive soon after."

"Very clever fellow indeed!" I cried. 

"Yes, but he fails to mention what he was doing up north in the first place." The lady returned to her tea and sat at the table. She had the sternest countenance I had ever seen on a woman of such fine features. 

"Do not worry Lady Carter, Holmes will most certainly get to the bottom of this conundrum."

She smiled softly at me and nodded, "I am sure he will and please, Miss Carter will do."

Holmes moved abruptly from the fireplace to sit opposite Miss Carter, blue eyes glinting curiously. "Is there any further detail you can provide? Do you know of any enemies your friend may have had before all of this or perhaps any love interest?" 

The woman's brown eyes flicked down to her interlaced hands in thought, "Elliot was not good at making friends, true, but I scarcely believe he had any enemies. As for his interest in women, there was hardly any. He shunned emotional connections, even a touch would make him uncomfortable."

"So he did not even have an interest in you?"

She shrugged, "If he did, he never made it obvious. He was always very courteous to me and I to him. I considered him to be like a brother."

Holmes offered her the barest hint of a smile. "So no one found him to be a threat - for your hand perhaps?"

Miss Carter scoffed and rose from the table to walk about the room.

"I do apologize if the question seems insensitive," He stated looking to me for reassurance.

The woman laughed and shook her head studying the painting above the mantle. "No, it's a fair question. You must forgive me Mr. Holmes it's just - I find courtship very amusing - " She turned to face us and wrinkled her nose, "and awfully tedious. It is true, there have been...suitors and they may have found my closeness with Elliot to be irritating. Especially when I turn down their proposal of marriage. I have very fondly been called the Cold-Hearted Lady of Blackthorne because of all those that I turn away. As if I should be so grateful - but, I digress, even if any of them did find Elliot to be a threat, they hardly a bone in their body committed to violence."

I shook my head and sat at the desk, "It seems, the deeper we delve into this, the more mysterious it grows."

"Really?" Carter replied, "I should think it is all very simple. My friend uncovered evidence of a secret organization and was killed for it and we have now involved ourselves in the conspiracy. I dare say Dr. Watson - I have the most awful feeling that someone else is going to die because of this business." 

The gaze she fixed me with rooted me to the spot and sent a shudder down my spine as if she had just predicted my own death. Holmes' voice interrupted the stillness in the air as he moved over to Miss Carter and placed a gentle hand upon her arm, "I assure you Miss Carter I will do my absolute best to prevent such a thing. Now I suggest you return home and ease your mind of all this. Perhaps these culprits will turn their attentions to Watson and I and leave you be."

She frowned at him and took his hand in hers, giving it a friendly pat, "I should never want to place you or Dr. Watson in harms way. I would never forgive myself if something happened."

"Oh nonsense! We are very much use to this sort of thing. Now off you go. Should we have any further information for you or you for us, then we shall keep in touch no doubt," Holmes gently ushered the lady away.

Once she was at the door, she turned and solemnly thanked us both before descending down the stairs. 

Holmes strode over to the window to watch Miss Carter leave, no doubt making sure that she at least got to her carriage. I studied my friend as he then paced about the room lost in some deep thought about this case. He then climbed into his chair, feet tucked beneath him and lit a pipe. 

"I don't think we've ever had such a client...or such a case," I stated.

"Yes," Holmes murmured clearly in another world.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, Holmes was deep in thought more about our client than the case. Holmes would later tell me that Amelia Carter was an enigma to him. He could not quite figure her out and it bothered him deeply. He never had a fondness for women, finding their temperament to be precarious. He disliked and distrusted them and yet was always very ingratiating and had a remarkable gentleness when dealing with them. Though, by applying his methods, I could tell that this woman had gotten under his skin. I'm not ashamed to say I found it amusing. At least there was something to keep Holmes busy.

"We should speak to the father, Watson! Perhaps I can glean a little more from him than from his daughter."

~*~

By the next morning, we were in the offices of Carter & Company in the presence of a rather burly gentleman. He was about 6'5, bearded and well groomed, and hardly showed signs of his old age. He had a gravelly voice, dark grey eyes, and carried himself like a gentleman but had obviously been a man about the world. I had now seen where Miss Carter got some of her qualities from.

Lord Carter gestured to some chairs in his office and shut the door behind him. "Gentleman, I understand my daughter has been to see you. I feel I must apologize for her dropping such nonsense on your lap. I told her to not bother but she's stubborn like her mother - God rest her soul."

"Oh it's no trouble at all Lord Carter-" I started.

"Henry will do just fine, sir. I only use my title around those that expect it of me."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Holmes smirk. He had already observed much more about Mr. Carter than his daughter. "Despite the oddity of this case, Mr. Carter, I must say for myself what a pleasure it is to meet you. I have been an admirer of yours and read all your papers about your studies in Asia. You have made quite a resplendent name for yourself over the years. Not bad for a pauper from Hammersmith."

Henry chuckled at my friend, "I never cared for riches or glory. It was the adventure that drove me away from England and into the arms of another world. I was educated well enough at home by my father and managed to save up some money and then off I went, not to return for 15 years. I had written some papers of my travels which got published in London and suddenly all the Western world was wantin' to know about me. I brought back some curiosities for the Great Exhibition. It was there that I met my late wife. Before too long, we were married, had a child and a successful life. Jocelyn died of typhus by the time Amelia was twelve. Over the years, more of our family began to die until it was just Amelia and I left. So when I saw Amelia growing fond of Elliot, treating him like a brother and all, well I was obliged to help him out any way I could. Over the years, he became like a son."

"Did you ever think Amelia and Elliot should become engaged?" Holmes inquired.

Henry smirked knowingly and shook his head, "Not with Elliot being the way that he was and Amelia - well - that child is something else. She has a sort of devilish beauty and intellect Mr. Holmes and she will not have anyone not worthy of her mind."

"Did you know of Mr. Hastings' investigations?" I offered.

The man shook his head and produced a cigarette from his case. "I had no idea what the boy was doing. It was always his and Amelia's little secret. When I heard of his suicide well...I didn't think why he should do such a thing."

My companion squared eyes with the other man and retorted, "So you too believe the police were wrong?" 

"I felt in my heart that something was not adding up. Now if it has anything to do with this conspiracy Amelia is on about, I don't claim to know. I told her she should have gone to the police and let them handle it but she had insisted on granting Elliot the wishes he made in his will, in that all information goes to you."

Holmes pursed his lips in thought and leaned back in his chair. 

~*~

As we rolled down the streets of London in our cab, I could see my friend's irritation begin to show, "Ha! The both of them are hiding something Watson! I do not know what it is, but they don't wish anyone to know of it. There are several missing clues to this case."

"Do you really think they had something to do with Hastings' death?" I questioned, a little shocked.

"No - perhaps not directly but I suspect they have some idea of who killed the poor man. We need to know more about them if we are to solve this."


	3. When Tragedy Strikes

A nasty storm was passing through Bedfordshire two nights later. The wind howled against the old hall, heavy rain mercilessly pelted anything and everything. It was getting close to 2am and not a soul in the house was stirring, save the lady of the house. Amelia was in her personal study on the ground floor going over the notes from her latest expedition in Egypt. She was working closely with the Museum of Cairo to catalogue the discovery of an 18th Dynasty mummy and his opulent tomb. She peered at the clock ticking away at her desk and decided it was time to turn in. She released her hair from its high bun and left the study. As she entered the high-vaulted main hall and ascended the grand staircase to the first floor, she thought she could distinctly hear voices coming from her father's study. However, the thunder and wind gave an awful racket and she attributed it to the storm. The brunette began walking towards her room down the other side of the hall when she heard a long bang. Amelia's instincts told her to investigate and so she did. She moved with a quick step to the study and opened the door. 

Two more loud bangs, rising above the sound of the storm resonated throughout the house, waking the four servants that lived in Blackthorne Hall. The butler, Leonard, whose room was closest to the study, was the first to emerge. He rushed towards the study and was faced by a brute of a man running towards him. The stranger forcefully pushed past, knocking Leonard over and ran away downstairs and out of the hall. The man was on his feet again and continued to the study, fear giving him wings. He saw the Lord sprawled out on the floor and unmoving. The Lady reached out to Leonard with a bloody hand, "Get the police! And send for Sherlock Holmes immediately!"

~*~

"Watson."

The lump of an ex-military doctor did not stir. Holmes moved in to pat his shoulder, "Watson."

"Mmm."

"I am sorry my dear friend, but we're needed in Bedforshire."

Watson groggy and bleary eyed sat up ever so slightly, "What time is it?"

"5am. Apparently tragedy has struck Blackthorne Hall," Holmes replied, handing his friend the telegram. "I have already sent for a cab. 5 minutes, Watson!" 

Watson sat up more properly and read the telegram by the dim light of the early morning.

_Mr. Holmes,_

_Come to Blackthorne Hall at once. There has been an attack._  

_Leonard_

~*~

We managed to catch the next train out to Bedfordshire that would have us there by half six and then it would be a cab to Blackthorne Hall. Once we had left the outskirts of London, I cast my gaze upon the great English countryside. It was proving to be a glorious morning weather wise, despite the gloom we were heading to. Holmes had buried himself in the morning papers to see if he could find any news on what had happened but there was none as of yet. As a man fresh from the fogs of London, I was enjoying the glorious scenery and the crispness to the air the late January offered. Winter had not quite broken its grip but the sun was shining ever so brilliantly with hardly a cloud to block its warmth. 

"Is it not just gorgeous Holmes!" I cried with enthusiasm, wishing I had made more trips to the countryside. 

Holmes threw the papers aside and turned his attention to the view. He silently shook his head, "You know how I feel about the countryside, Watson. More sinister a crime can easily take place out here than in the darkest alleys of London. The isolation is very dangerous, the impunity is constant. No, my friend, I do not look upon these homesteads and see grandeur, instead I see potential horror; the ignorance of the residents when it comes to the law. If Miss Carter and her father had lived in the city, any city, I would never fear for them due to this nasty business surrounding Elliot Hastings. This telegram Watson..."

"You're wondering who this Leonard is and who got attacked?"

"Yes. I knew I should have pried a little more into her life at Blackthorne Hall. The servants, their neighbours, any family they may have, they are all potential suspects seeing as Miss Carter said she could trust no one."

"She trusted her father well enough to tell him about it," I replied, focusing my attention on Holmes.

"He said that it was a conspiracy but he believes otherwise, that much was obvious from our little meeting."

"Yes, you thought the both of them were hiding something but you did not find a thing when you did some digging?"

"Either they are the most innocent people to have ever existed in this country, or they are very good at covering their tracks. I am willing to bet the latter." Holmes lit up a cigarette and leaned back in his seat.

"But a Lord and Lady of such popularity and respectability! You said yourself, you admire Carter's work." 

"Oh I do, Watson! They make a most winning pair, but that does not excuse the fact that....some dirty deed has shaken them to their core, coupled with Hastings' death and now - this attack in their own home. The dangers of isolation!"

Listening to Holmes had filled me with a sense of dread and ruined whatever good mood I had. I knew he was right but I did enjoy the countryside too much and remained wilfully ignorant of the evils that could possibly transpire. 

We had finally arrived at Blackthorne Hall by 7am and it was as I had imagined. It was not a very large estate but was opulent enough in its own right. The hall itself was two stories high and stretched out in both directions for some hundreds of feet. Windows neatly lined both floors and turrets capped each end of the hall which gave it an over all cold and orderly exterior. As we approached the double doors of the hall we were greeted by an Inspector Smith.

"Thank God you finally arrived Mr. Holmes. Name's Inspector Smith from Bedford."

"Ah, what happened here, Inspector?" Holmes inquired as we entered the main hall. 

"Well, sir, a servant of the house came running up to the station near 3 this morning saying there was a murder here. When we arrived, we were permitted to see the body, but were not allowed to look about the room, or move the body so as to not disturb the evidence. We were told to wait for you. You can imagine how annoyed we were, but given the family's reputation, we respected the decision. I can take you up now if you like."

I felt my heart drop. We had only known so far that there was an attack, not that it had led to murder! "Sorry, Inspector," I hastily interrupted, "But who was murdered?"

"Why it was Lord Carter, sir. Shot dead."

"And the Lady?" Holmes asked. I had known my friend well enough to know he was worried. He was just as surprised as I was about the revelation of death.

"A bit shaken up understandably. Apparently she had walked in and was viciously attacked. She warded the blaggard off, though. She is the one who refused to say anything or let us do our job until you got here. Though it is a bit suspicious. Her hands are bloodied, refuses to let us do our job. If it were not for the butler saying there was a man that ran past him and out the house, well I would have suspected foul play. However, for all we know, the butler could be covering for his mistress."

Holmes smirked ever-so-knowingly at the Inspector. How queer he must have thought this man was, making his assumptions already, "Where is she now?"

"In the parlour room." 

"Then we shall see her first."

As we were led up the grand staircase, I had time to observe the richness of the interior hall. The walls and floor were built with solid stone, a structure that would ensure the test of time. Persian rugs laid beneath the furniture and decked the staircase which was made entirely of a fine mahogany. Above the mantle of the fireplace was a happy painting of the Carter family. The window above the staircase was a beautiful stained glass and flanked on either side by tapestries. The upper floors were wood lined topped with a long carpet as well as wainscot all along the corridors. Nothing was out of place and everything served a purpose. When we entered the parlour room, we gazed upon a forlorn Amelia Carter who was seated on a settee and staring out the window. I approached her and observed the bruises and scratch about her neck and the nasty gash across her forehead. To my shock I noticed the blood on her hands. I looked up at her maidservant who stood by her Lady like a guardian Angel. "How long has she been like this?" I inquired of the girl.

"Since the police arrived around half three, sir. She has not eaten, drank, or spoke since. I think she might be in shock, sir."

"Quite right." I moved to pour a glass of brandy and had to place it in Carter's hands before she consciously wrapped her fingers around the stem and drank the whole thing down. She trembled ever so much that I was afraid the glass would shatter so I took it from her and set it aside.

"Lady Carter," Holmes stated, trying to get her attention. When she did not respond, Holmes sat next to her and placed a hand around her wrist, "Amelia."

"Poor woman must be terrified," Smith interjected.

The woman closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before turning to my friend, "I am not in shock - nor am I afraid. I do not tremble from fear but from anger, Inspector. I am angry that such a thing has happened in my own home." 

Holmes turned over Carter's hand and examined the dried blood on it. "I know the Inspector here thinks me a suspect and my requests were very suspicious but Mr. Holmes, I did not know if this was related to the case I had brought to you before and I dared not risk any clues being trampled under foot. So before you think any more ill of me Inspector Smith, you should know I had a very good relationship with my father and he was the only person in this world I cared about! Besides, if you had done your job properly you would have noticed my father did indeed have a guest and he knew who he was and that makes me all the more angry."

"Now hang on, Lady Carter, you have to admit, this has been rather impertinent, impeding our investigation -" 

"As it should be! That is my father dead in the study. My hands are bloody because I tried to save him!" The Lady shot back, displaying the dried blood upon her hands.

The room fell silent. I could see that Holmes was rather impressed by the manner and speech of the lady. Only the grandfather clock could be heard ticking away the seconds before the inspector spoke up again, "My sincerest apologies, Lady Car-"

"Oh spare me your rhetoric. If we are quite done I can take you all to the study now and tell you what happened," Lady Carter stated, starting up from the settee and walking out of the parlour room. We quickly followed after her, down the other end of the corridor where Lord Carter's study was situated.

"The body is still there I presume?" I asked, falling into step with the brunette.

"Yes. You needn't worry about my sensibilities, Dr. Watson. The body in my father's study is no longer my father. It is but a corpse now. Not to sound insensitive but I never could understand the grieving process nor do I believe in an afterlife. I think it rather selfish to grieve for so long and refuse to let go. I certainly would not want anyone grieving over me."

I had not known this woman for very long nor very well, but her character continued to strike upon me as something extraordinary. I looked back at Holmes who kept an even expression. Once we were in the study, Carter moved past the covered body of her father and leaned against the desk. I stooped down to examine the body as Holmes set himself upon the room in his methodical way. I observed that Lord Carter had been shot through the heart at point blank range. Death was instantaneous. I could also make out how his waistcoat had hastily been undone. No doubt the lady's attempts at helping her father before she realized it was too late. I reverently put him under the sheet once more. Holmes examined the door and silently pointed to what was obviously a bullet hole on the door frame. The carpet, the gun (which was obviously the murder weapon), the desk, a shattered lamp, a walking cane, a mask and a dagger were each in turn examined, until at last Holmes professed himself satisfied. He then turned to Carter and eagerly motioned to the chair at the side of the desk. She acquiesced and sat down. "Now - tell me all of the facts from the very beginning."

"I sometimes find it difficult to sleep. It won't be until the early hours of the morning before I begin to tire. So I was in my own study downstairs - adjacent to the observatory - going over some field notes I had taken whilst in Egypt. By the time it was 2am I felt satisfied that I could retire. There was a dreadful storm that did not clear until about 5am so it blocked out most other noise. I put out the light and headed upstairs to my bedroom on the other side of the hall. I could have sworn amongst the rain that I heard voices. I almost thought I was hearing things until...I heard an awful loud bang above the storm. Naturally I worried what it might have been and rushed toward my father's study. When I opened the door, I saw my father with his hand over his chest and a man with a gun. I quickly grabbed one of those walking canes and swung at the man before he could fire at me. He dropped the gun and charged at me."

The man was rather tall and large but not as much as her father. However, he was very capable of overpowering her. He grabbed the cane as she held it up to defend herself and gave her a wallop across the face, the sheer force of it landing her near the desk. It did not knock her unconscious but made her head swim profusely as she tried to stand. Before she could react, she felt herself lifted up by the neck and slammed on top of the desk. She frantically grabbed at the hand cutting off her air supply and looked up in sheer horror at the grotesque mask that covered her assailant's face. He produced a dagger from his coat. Without a thought, Amelia used her free knee and rammed it into the man's side a couple of times before trying to stop him from stabbing her. She took hold of the other hand and dug her nails in as the blade got dangerously close to her chest. She could feel herself getting weaker. She happened to notice a flicker of light to her right and remembered there was an oil lamp on the desk. She immediately grabbed for it and smashed it across the attacker's face. He dropped the knife and let go of her, letting out a horrible scream of pain. The blow had knocked his mask off but his hands covered his face as he staggered to get out of the room. Amelia crawled for the gun, picked it up and aimed. She fired two shots - one struck the doorframe, the other whizzed past the fleeing man and down the corridor. He rushed out of the house, knocking over Leonard as he went and disappeared into the stormy night.

"Leonard came in and I asked him to send for the police and you."

Holmes remained silent, absorbing all the facts.

"I have determined the mask and dagger are from the Orient but at present, I do not know which part or what it has to do with any of this."

"You said, your father knew this man. How do you know that? Why the mask?" I asked.

"The two glasses on the desk, Dr. Watson. One is empty, the other has barely been touched. In that decanter is the bourbon my father only uses for guests. It was a late hour, none of the servants were awake and I certainly did not let this man in. So my father must have. Given the facts, he obviously knew his killer. The mask must have been put on later. For what reason - well - your guess is as good as mine."

Holmes hummed to himself, "Very good, Miss Carter. From what I have observed everything you said is the absolute truth." 

~*~

The inspector and Holmes went about searching the rest of the house and outside for more clues as well as interrogating the servants. While they were doing this, Miss Carter had washed her hands and changed clothes to make herself more presentable. Afterwards she returned to the parlour room and I tended to her wounds. In many ways she reminded me of my dear friend. Clever, intelligent, steadfast, and not afraid to step on a few toes. I was not too sure of how Holmes regarded her but his mannerisms would suggest that he had grown to respect her on some level. "I'm so sorry such a thing has happened to you."

"Thank you, doctor."

"Oh please, if you want me to call you Miss Carter, then you can call me Watson if you wish." 

She graced me with a small smiled and nodded in agreement, "While I feel the loss of my father, I am now more concerned about what I shall do. Once the press has word of this, the questions will be endless, my cousins and my father's partners will prevail upon me their insufferable propriety and I will have become one of the richest women in all of Britain. Perhaps I shall hide myself away."

 "And where would you go?" I asked politely.

"Home," she stated matter-of-factly. She smiled again at my confused expression, "Chateau Durant, the home of my mother's family. I'm part French you see. They ran away from the revolution and made a magnificent manor house in Cumbria. That's it there, in the painting."

I looked to where she pointed behind her and noticed the painting for the first time. It was a rather detailed piece of work, enclosed with a gold leaf frame. The chateau was twice the size of the hall and far more extravagant. It was flanked along the back by a garden as well as a lake and surrounded by an English countryside that can only be found in Cumbria. "French relatives, indeed!"

Miss Carter joined me to admire the painting, "I grew up there until my mother died and when the memories were too painful to bear, my father moved us here. We do still occupy the chateau but only during the holidays. None of my remaining relatives live that far north. It would be perfect."

"It would also be very lonely, no doubt."

"I suppose, lonely is all I have now."

I immediately turned to her, realizing what I had said, "I'm very sorry Miss Carter! I did not mean to offend."

A light sort of laughter fell from her lips and she shook her head, "I told you, Watson, do not worry about my would be sensibilities. I used to live there on my own from time to time - when I felt I needed space from my _suitors_ and the rest of the world."

"Miss Carter!" We were both startled by Holmes' sudden appearance. I had no idea how long he had been standing near or how much he had heard, "Might I suggest you postpone your flight up north? Further isolation may save you from the press and nettling relatives but not from a future attack and I cannot offer you much help if you are so far away." 

"I am just as much in danger if I stay here."

"Indeed but as you've said before you are much endowed with a fortune. Perhaps it would be little trouble for you to rent a flat in London for the time being? At least until we can find this attacker and make sure he is working alone. He might be the same one that killed Mr. Hastings after all."

Miss Carter glanced down to the floor in thought, "Perhaps."

Holmes stepped closer, which made the woman look up at him, "Miss Carter, I assure you, I will do everything in my power to find this man and bring him to justice."

Carter had given Holmes a cold gaze, one that I had seen before. It was like a warning, "Hm. That is an interesting word, Mr. Holmes. 'Assure' I mean. The last time you used that you were trying to comfort me because I felt like someone else was going to die. How can you be so certain now that you will be able to prevent my death?"

Well my friend could hardly know how to respond to such a comment! He opened his mouth to say but promptly shut it, deciding on more careful words, no doubt. "You are probably tired of hearing it but I am sorry. I should have kept a closer eye. I thought for sure this man would leave you be and I was wrong. However, with these new facts and you in London, I will be better able to help and protect you. That - I can swear to."

"We shall see, won't we. Excuse me, gentleman. I need to go make preparations." Without another word, the brunette left the room with such a purpose. 

I could tell by Holmes' expression that he was not settling well with all that had happened today, "This case really is bothering you, is it not?"

"This is a vile darkness, Watson. I can feel it gaining at our heels. I confess I have never been so perplexed by a case. If it is true that this killer Lord Carter knew was the very same that murdered Hastings, then that would mean Lord Carter was a part of the conspiracy. Why kill him, though?" Holmes began to pace about the room with an abstracted air, "Data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay. Come, Watson!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: My God this was the longest and hardest chapter to write. I can only hope I didn't expend all my energy, so I can write another before the week is out!


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